Dear (10-Year-Old) Tyson

Dear 10-Year-Old Tyson,

We made it!  For months, you’ve been counting down to your birthday.  For the last week, there have been countdowns to different parties and the actual big day.  And in between, there have been countdowns by the hour. So much math!  I feel like we’ve been celebrating for this entire month in a way, and you know what?  You deserve it!

I just finished scrolling through photos from the last 365 days to pick some of my favorite “Tyson Moments.”  And let’s just say, I take a lot of pictures.  That’s not a surprise to you whatsoever, but I want you to know something else—I am obsessed with you!  In a healthy, loving, love-you-to-the-moon-and-back-to-infinity-plus-1 kind of obsession.

I am obsessed with your personality.  You are all the crazy, wild, and funny that can exist in one person.  But in a completely flip way, you are all the quiet, calm, and snuggly.  You are the one working to get the attention of a room, while also being the one who very seriously does not want to stand in front of a room.   In the same day you are dancing like a fool in hopes to get on the Busch Stadium jumbo-tron, you are asking me to just sit on the couch and hold you.  There isn’t a part of who you are that I’m not obsessed with—even the crabby Tyson that most of us have experience with.  I love him too!

I am obsessed with your musical talent.  It’s been a struggle this year to balance giving you all the experiences you want to explore, and finding which ones you love enough to give your time.  When it comes to the piano, I’ve been told “I’ve never seen a 9 year old do what he is doing whether playing off a written piece, by ear, or now jazz!”  It’s incredible to watch you walk into the house, beeline to the piano, and take off playing something that may or may not be an actual song.  You’ve done so well learning the violin and having the experience of playing with others in an orchestra, and worked through some banjo lessons so you can do a little sitting-and-picking.  Tomorrow, you’ll start guitar lessons and in the fall, join the 5^th grade band as a percussionist.  The sky is your limit, and I will buy the drum set, ask about the lessons, and soak up every moment of noise.

I am obsessed with your gorgeous eyes.  I’m obsessed with your heart.  I’m obsessed with your full-blown hugs.  I’m obsessed with your snuggles, laughs, and farts. 

You may be 10 years old, and continue to grow like a proverbial weed.  But I still see my 8-pound water-birth baby with the shocking blue eyes, and I still see you clutching your blanket and your froggies, and I still feel my heart burst at how amazing you are and that I get to call you mine.  Forever and ever, I love you. 

“I love you more.”

“I love you most.” 

“I love you mostest.” 

“I love you more than that.” 

“You can’t.” 

“Yes I can, I’m your mama.”